


12-Ounce Honey Latte with Almond Milk

by firstdegreefangirl



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: 12 Days Of Tarlos, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Barista!Carlos, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Holidays, M/M, TK is healing himself, but a very happy ending, for sy's needy ass, it's set loosely at Christmas, just a touch of light angst, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28085295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstdegreefangirl/pseuds/firstdegreefangirl
Summary: Every day, it’s the same drink. And every day, it’s a different name.Or, Carlos is a barista. TK orders the same coffee every day, but keeps giving him different names. Carlos sets the record straight.
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 11
Kudos: 133
Collections: Twelve Days of Tarlos 2020





	12-Ounce Honey Latte with Almond Milk

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so we might be doing 12 Days of Tarlos. At the very least, we're doing today. I wrote the whole thing in two hours at work, and edited immediately after. From here, we'll see if there are ideas for the other 11 prompts or not, but this fell together beautifully. I blame Melo and Bobbob for talking me into writing it, and Sy for organizing the whole thing. But it's a very loving blame.

“12-ounce honey latte with almond milk for Tyler!” 

“12-ounce honey latte with almond milk for TK!” 

“12-ounce honey latte with almond milk for Ty!” 

“12-ounce honey latte with almond milk for Kennedy!” 

Every day, it’s the same drink. Every day, he’s here at the same time. Carlos could set his watch to this guy, even if he apparently could never make him a nametag. 

He walks in 20 minutes after opening, orders the same drink and sits down at the second barstool from the end to wait. Carlos scrawls the name of the day on the side of the cup, even if there’s no one else in the dining room, even though he’s always the one to make the latte, even though he could just walk over and slide it in front of him. 

Because he’s hoping that maybe one day, he’ll use the same name twice in a row. And then Carlos will know what his name actually is. 

Every day, it’s the same drink. And every day, it’s a different name. 

Tyler K. Ken. Tyler. Kennedy. TK. Kennedy Tyler. Kenny. Tyler Kennedy. On one particularly memorable day, he’d tried not to crack a smile as the guy had ordered the drink for “’Ler.” 

Either he’s having some sort of identity crisis, or there are octuplets in Austin that Carlos didn’t know about. 

Selfishly, he hopes that it’s the first option. He’d never wish an identity crisis on anyone, but he couldn’t ever date octuplets, and he’d by lying if he said he hadn’t been having some distracting daydreams about this guy. 

It’s just that he comes in _every day,_ and Carlos can only make a latte so fast. Which means that he has a few minutes to watch the customer while the milk steams and the frother agitates it. And he watches, _every day,_ even though the habits never seem to change. 

He sits on his barstool, toys with the strings on his hoodie and scrolls through his phone. After the first week or so, Carlos had started making small talk when he delivered the drink, asking where he’s headed, how things are going, why he’s up so early when he doesn’t have a coffee shop to run. 

That one had gotten a smile from the stranger, so bright that its force had nearly made Carlos tip the hot beverage all over his apron. 

“I’m on my way to work,” he’d replied. “Well, most days. Five of them every week. But I like a routine. So, here I am.” He’d shrugged, and Carlos had managed to set the drink down on the countertop before he made a complete ass of himself. 

“Most days? So not today, then?” He’d leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the edge of the counter to hold himself up as he tried not to get lost in the stranger’s soft grey eyes. 

“Nah, not today,” he’d laughed. “They make me take a day off every so often.” 

“So you don’t have to take that to-go this time, then?” Carlos had asked, carefully keeping his voice even and his tone casual. 

And he hadn’t. He’d been … Ken, that day, if Carlos remembered right, and they’d sat there for close to an hour, getting to know each other. Carlos had been interrupted twice to serve other customers, but he’d wandered back over every time, and they’d picked up the conversation exactly where they’d left off. 

When the drink was empty, Ken had left. Carlos had turned the music up, tried to drown out the silence as the morning rush ended and he wiped down the tables. Still, it had been the quietest afternoon he could remember, even if the evening crowd had picked up steadily after the 9-5 customers got off work. 

From there, they’d built their own routine. The stranger started showing up a little earlier every day, carving out 10 minutes or so to hang out and enjoy part of his coffee before he had to take off. On the slow mornings, Carlos would lean against the counter and talk to him. On the busier days, his presence had been enough. 

The manager had introduced a punch card for frequent flyers, and Tyler-Kenny-Ty-TK, had started burning through them every week. On his days off, he’d hang around and savor his latte, ask Carlos questions about the different drinks they serve, the flavor options he could choose from. 

It was just enough curiosity to keep him from making the drink in advance, no matter how punctual the guy was, just in case today was the day his order changed. 

Still, every day, “12-ounce honey latte with almond milk for Kennedy!” 

When they were busy, Carlos would shout to be heard over the din. When they weren’t, sometimes he’d shout anyway, just to see the way the guy laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges as he threw his head back. 

But some mornings, he’d slide the drink over quietly, call it just loudly enough for Tyler to hear him, then smile at him and say, “how’s it going today?” 

Carlos is thinking about all of those mornings today, as he opens the register and starts the coffee brewing on the last morning before the shop closes for the holidays. The easy answer to a family-owned coffee shop and who was going to work Christmas morning is just to give everyone a few days off. So they’d posted signs on the doors, made an announcement online that they’d be closed for business from the 23rd of December to New Year’s Day. 

There’s no way the guy hasn’t seen them, no way he doesn’t know that this is the last morning for a week that he’ll slide up onto his barstool and be the highlight of Carlos’ day. 

_Well, he might not know the last part,_ Carlos muses as he wipes down the countertop. _But he’s got the gist of it, for sure._

“Good morning,” Carlos recites on instinct when he hears the bells chime on the door. “Welcome to Java in a Jiff, what can I get started for you?” 

“Honey latte, please,” Carlos turns around at the familiar voice. “12 ounce. With, ah,” he hesitates, but Carlos fills in the ending for him. 

“Almond milk?” 

“Almond milk,” He smiles. “For TK.” 

Carlos nods, turning around to fire up the milk steamer. He comes back to the register and taps at his screen until the credit card reader lights up. He’s long stopped asking if it’ll be cash or card, but never fails to notice the dollar bills in the tip jar every so often. 

He steps away again, letting TK wrap up his transaction while Carlos finishes making his latte. This time, when he turns back around, TK is sitting on his usual stool, phone flat on the counter in front of him while he watches Carlos whip the milk into a foam and pour it across the espresso in the bottom of his cup. He drizzles the top of it with some more honey and snaps a lid on before carrying it down the length of the counter. 

“12-ounce honey latte with almond milk,” he says, just like every day. “For TK.” 

“Thanks,” he takes his first sip and sighs around it. “You know how much I’m going to miss these next week?” 

_Not as much as I’ll miss you,_ Carlos thinks. But he doesn't say it, because he doesn’t even know this guy’s name. If he doesn’t know his name, there’s no way he knows him well enough to be _that_ honest. 

“Well we’ll see you back for the new year, then.” He smiles, even as he cringes internally at how campy the line sounds. 

“For sure,” TK laughs. “Bright and early, as soon as you’re reopened.” 

“I’ll save the first drink, just for you.” 

“You’d better,” TK doesn’t wink, but Carlos imagines it anyway, just from the tease in his voice. “I’d hate to think you were making these for any other guys.” 

“You’re basically the only person who ever orders that,” Carlos admits, pointing at TK’s cup. “And definitely the only regular who does.” 

“Really?” TK seems impressed, but Carlos can’t be sure why. 

“Really. Unless there are like seven other people who look just like you, all using similar names.” 

“Nah,” TK shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate. 

“What is your name, anyway?” Carlos doesn’t let himself think before he says it, asks the question as soon as it pops into his mind, lest he chicken out. He’s been pretty sure they’re building to something between them, has felt it for a few weeks now. But today, talking about how he won’t be seeing TK every day for a little bit? It’s making something twist around in his chest, giving him just enough courage to put himself out there and ask a personal question. 

_Besides,_ he thinks. _If it goes horribly wrong, at least I have a week to find a new job._

“Hmm?” TK looks up at him and hums around the lip of his drink. 

“Tyler, TK, Ken, Kennedy, Ty, which is it?” There’s no frustration in Carlos’ tone, only a hint of fond exasperation as he reaches for one of the shop’s paper coasters and slides the pen out of his apron. He moves slowly, trying not to draw TK’s attention to what he’s doing. “I mean you’ve been coming in here every day for three months, and I think you’ve given me a different name every time. Now it’s almost Christmas, and I just want to know: which one is your name?” 

When he looks up from where he’s been scribbling on the coaster, TK-Ty-Ken-whoever-he-is is blushing bright red. 

“I’m … um, a-all of them?” He stammers, turning his cup around in his hands, staring at the steady rotation he’s creating. “It’s, uh, my name is, like, legally, it’s Tyler Kennedy. But that was a … a lot of syllables when I was in school, and a lot of letters to learn to write. So I shortened it and went by TK for a long time. Um, most of my life, actually.” 

He laughs dryly, like whatever he’s saying isn’t actually funny, then continues. 

“But we – I – my dad and I, we moved down here a few months ago. Um, after some … it’s a long story, but Dad kept talking about how this was a new beginning for us, and a chance to reinvent ourselves and all that. So I’m … I dunno, I’m not sure if I want to be TK anymore, so I’m trying some things out.” 

“Oh,” Carlos lets the confession hang between them for a moment. “Well, maybe-TK, what do you want me to call you? Other than the obvious, that is.” He waits for TK to look up at him curiously. “12 ounce honey latte, almond milk.” 

They both laugh, and even if it sounds a little forced, Carlos is glad to hear the sound again. 

“Might be a little wordy, y’know, if Tyler Kennedy is too long for me.” 

“Fair enough,” Carlos smiles at him. “But what have you figured out?” 

“I … I think I’m still TK. I’m still me, y’know, even if I’m a different version than I was back in New—back home.” TK brings his thumb up to his mouth, gnawing idly at the skin around his nail. 

“Alright,” Carlos draws it out, turning his attention back to his writing. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but someone has to deep-clean the coffee grinder before we close tonight. Stay as long as you like, though. If you’re still here, I should be done in 40 minutes or so. And, uh,” he slides the coaster across the counter. “Have a good week, TK.” 

He smiles as he turns for the kitchen, noticing how naturally the other man’s name fits on his tongue. And as the water heats up to run through the grinder, he sneaks a glance back out to the dining room. TK is still sitting on his stool, but he seems to have abandoned the cup in front of him in favor of tilting the coaster up to read it. 

TK smiles, reaching for his phone as Carlos hears the timer go off and ducks back to the kitchen. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and presses his lips together, then smiles to himself as he thinks about what he’d written in the space around the shop’s logo on the coaster. 

_TK,_ It’s written at the top, even if it’s the last detail he’d added. 

_I’ve got keys, you know. 12 ounce honey latte, almond milk, on me? Dec. 28? (512) 555-0126._

**Author's Note:**

> How is it that I've now written two coffee shop AUs, both for Tarlos, and both with Barista!Carlos? Regardless of how, we're here, so let me know what you think down below!


End file.
